


Thin Walls (Powers)

by LuckyPanda13



Series: Thin Walls [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, M/M, Original Character(s), Showers, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPanda13/pseuds/LuckyPanda13
Summary: Charles didn't much care for his next-door neighbour, but that was primarily due to the loud sex he was having every evening with his even louder boyfriend. So, when his neighbour moved out, Charles was reasonably excited to not have to hear anything through his walls for a bit.Then, Erik moved in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have also written a "No Powers" version of this story, that I just started posting. It's essentially the same for all the important bits, just no powers.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

There was nothing Charles wished for more than a neighbour who was _not_ noisy. Really, he didn’t think that such a wish was demanding or impossible. Just a neighbour who respected the fact that the walls between the flats were thin and hearing the man next door having sex with his _very_ loud lover (who was always yelling in creole, for some reason) was _not_ something a neighbour should _have_ to deal with on a regular basis. Mr. L. Howlett, the name written on the buzzer at the front door, never had any qualms about letting his lover (boyfriend?) scream as loud as he wanted at _any_ time of the day or night. For Charles, such liberties took an even greater toll.

It already took a tremendous amount of effort for Charles to block the normal, everyday thoughts of his neighbours from his mind. It was doubly difficult when the thoughts were so _loud_ and were echoed in the moaning screams through the walls. So, it was with more joy than trepidation that he saw the moving van and Mr. L. Howlett (who had never been particularly friendly anyway) carrying boxes out of his flat. Charles, being taught fairly strict manners from his darling mum, offered his assistance, despite the obvious foolishness of accepting assistance from a man in a wheelchair. Charles was gruffly rebuffed (though that seemed to be Mr. L. Howlett’s personality rather than any personal antagonistic feelings towards Charles).

Charles caught the stray thoughts from his neighbour as he wheeled himself away, hearing the name “Remy” with a fondness and gentleness that didn’t match Mr. L. Howlett’s personality. Remy, whoever he was, was obviously important to him. Charles shook his head as he entered his flat, trying not to get caught up in his soon-to-be-ex neighbour’s personal life. He shoved the thoughts that weren’t his own into the background cacophony that he had never managed to truly silence. But the gentleness in his neighbour’s mind made Charles think about the loneliness in his own life. He had few friends, none that were particularly close, and his parents had long since passed.

True, he had his sister (his adopted sister really, but neither of them thought that their relationship was anything less than true siblings), but she was traveling the world “trying to find herself” as she had put it. Charles knew she really wanted to see if she could find more mutants like them and test her shapeshifting abilities in other cultures. So, Raven was off on her own, barely able to contact Charles with all the various places and time zones she was passing through, and Charles was left at his flat by himself, working an ill-paying job as an administrative assistant. It wasn’t _that_ bad, since his family’s fortune prevented him from _ever_ having to work a day in his life, but he knew that he’d become a reclusive shut-in in a heartbeat if he stopped working and _forcing_ himself to interact with people on a regular basis.

It was two blissful weeks of pure auditory silence from the flat next-door, when Mrs. McNamara informed Charles that said empty flat was being let at last. Mrs. McNamara was a lovely elderly lady who lived upstairs from Charles and with whom Charles had assisted in carrying groceries and taste-testing batches of cookies. Charles wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge Mrs. McNamara had given him in one of the short, gossiping conversations that happened in the lift. He had quite enjoyed the quiet while it lasted, but knew it had to come to an end at some point. It seemed that he was finally getting a new neighbour, so he’d have to get used to the addition of a new mind in the building, and subsequently in the back of his mind, as well as the noise that would be coming through the walls.

The new tenant, a Mr. E. Lensherr (if the name next to the buzzer was to be believed), moved in almost a week after Charles got the knowledge from Mrs. McNamara. Normally, Charles would offer his assistance to the new tenant and introduce himself, since they _were_ to be next-door neighbours, but Mrs. McNamara informed him that Mr. E. Lensherr was going to be moving in while Charles was at work. Charles, therefore, would not get the opportunity to get a glimpse of his new neighbour and find out what type of person he was with minimal effort, like he was hoping for. He’d have to actively seek out Mr. E. Lensherr if he wanted to answer his questions about the man.

After a long, incredibly exhausting day, Charles dragged himself home, silently complaining to himself about being stupid enough to agree to live on the third floor when he was in a _wheelchair_. He tried not to focus on how _loud_ all the thoughts were around him as he waited for the lift. Mrs. McNamara joined him from picking up her mail in waiting for the lift. She amiably informed him about the nice, young Jewish man who just moved in next door to him and about how sweet and lovely and polite he was to her when she introduced herself with a batch of her cookies. As usual, she tried to offer to set Charles up with the new neighbour (something she had done with _every_ new, single person who came into the building), and _then_ , when Charles had assured her that he was _fine_ on his own (despite internal evidence to the contrary), Mrs. McNamara tried to convince Charles to accept her assistance in wheeling him to his flat (which he never accepted). She proceeded to talk his ear (and mind) off at his door before she finally left him alone. Charles adored the woman, he really did, but she could be trying when he was already tired from work.

She didn’t manage to leave without promising to tell Erik (the mysterious Mr. E. Lensherr) _all_ about Charles and how wonderful he was and how _single_ he was. By that point, Charles was tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally and he just wanted to take a long, hot shower and pass out on his bed. He locked up his flat behind himself and made his way into the bathroom. It took some doing, but he maneuvered himself into the chair he had placed in the tub that would allow him to take a shower (without sitting in the tub’s basin, which he knew from experience to be uncomfortable). He let himself relax under the hot water for a few long moments, emptying his thoughts and letting all the thoughts and feelings of the people in the building (and the neighbouring buildings, and the rest of the block) wash over him in the same way the water was. He didn’t pay attention to any _one_ thought, just letting them happen without actively acknowledging their existence. It was his own personal form of meditation that helped him get through his day-to-day life without going mad from all the voices in his head. When he had eased the pain behind his brow and calmed his stressed mind, he got down to business and washed and cleaned himself thoroughly, singing along to Queen as he did so.

“I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball.” The voice that came through the wall was by no means part of Charles’ imagination. Charles choked on water and started coughing, trying to refocus himself to figure out _what_ was going on.

 _Oh, shite. I’ve killed him._ The thought was as clear as the previously sung lines. Charles struggled to calm his hacking and his racing heart. His neighbour, his _new_ neighbour, was apparently in the shower at the same time and had heard him singing. Instead of ignoring said singing, said new neighbour decided to join in? Charles wasn’t sure what to do with that. To be fair, he’d never been put in such a situation before.

“Don’t stop me now.” He sang, hesitantly. The mind across the wall shut up for a split second. Charles actively took the energy to block his powers, trying _not_ to intrude on the stranger’s mind. His neighbour accepted the invitation as it was and they finished the song as an impromptu duet. When they finished, his neighbour chuckled and banged on the wall in appreciation. Charles liked the sound of that chuckle.

“You’ve got a good voice.” He ventured, cautiously.

“As do you.” The man replied. “I’m Erik Lensherr, by the way. I just moved in.”

“I know.” Charles smiled. “I’m Charles Xavier.”

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I have no idea what you look like.” Erik replied, a smile evident in his voice.

“It can still be a pleasure.” Charles disagreed.

“Wait…” Erik paused, his thoughts racing. Charles tried to ignore them, but it was more difficult to actively ignore the thoughts of the person he was conversing with. “Charles. Are you the ‘Charlie’ that Mrs. McNamara was telling me about?”

“Did she use the words ‘lovely’, ‘darling’, and ‘sweetheart’?” Charles asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“Then yes. That’s me.”

Erik laughed.

It was a good laugh.

“Well, I’m afraid I must cut this short. I’ve got work in the morning.” Erik said, apologetically.

“Of course.” Charles nodded, forgetting, in the moment, that Erik couldn’t see him. _Hopefully, we meet in person and not through a wall next time._ Charles thought.

“Have a nice evening, Charles.”

“You, too.”

Charles couldn’t keep himself from having a physical reaction (see: erection) to Erik’s voice. The man had a bloody _sing-along_ with him to _Queen_ in the shower. It didn’t matter what he _looked_ like (though Mrs. McNamara had said he was cute), because Charles was entranced by his voice (and laugh). Charles made sure, though (out of pure paranoia), to wait to wank off until he was in his bed, where his soft, breathy noises were muffled by his pillow as the “Have a nice evening, Charles” ran through his mind over and over again in perfect clarity.

After that, Charles was hooked on Erik’s voice. Three weeks later, they had eighteen more sing-alongs, eleven philosophical discussion, three long-winded debates, and one ongoing mental chess match that started during the second conversation the night after the first sing-along. There was one particular debate that turned into a fully-fledged argument that was heated enough for them to not speak to each other the next night. But, they both got over their personal issues quickly enough, because the following evening, they were back to their chess match and sing-alongs.

Oh, and they had _yet_ to meet in person. It was getting a little past the point of absurdity, actually. They were _next-door neighbours_ and they hadn’t even physically _seen_ each other since Erik moved in. Charles was actually getting to the point where he didn’t even _want_ to physically see Erik because he thought it would be awkward and weird. Erik was just this disembodied voice that came through the wall and joined him in singing and having philosophical debates in the shower (and the voice he wanked off to, but that was entirely beside the point).

“Erik?” Charles asked his bathroom wall as he waited for the water to heat up. The water wasn’t running on the other side of the wall, but Erik could always just be running late. Charles was steadfastly ignoring the buzzing of thoughts in the back of his mind, so he wasn’t even sure if Erik was even home. He _liked_ real conversations with Erik enough that he took great pains to make sure he wasn’t actively intruding on Erik’s thoughts. After a few minutes of hearing nothing from the bathroom next door, Charles chalked it up to Erik not being home, or being passed out, and went back to his normal shower routine (normal routine from before Erik moved in).

Part of him was sad that Erik was missing their nightly conversations, since their shower schedules had synced up after the first night, but the other part of Charles was relieved that he could have some personal time to himself. So, he pulled up his favourite memories of his neighbour’s voice and started wanking himself off, happily losing himself to the pleasure. He finished with a choked-off moan not long after he started, letting the water rinse the evidence of his release down the drain.

Almost immediately after Charles finished, there was a loud crash from the other side of the bathroom wall.

_Holy fuck._

Erik’s thought came unbidden to the forefront of Charles’ mind. Charles blinked hard, trying to focus past the influx of hormones to his brain to force himself away from the enthralling mind that was his next-door neighbour. Charles pretended like his hadn’t heard _anything_ from the other side of the wall and quickly finished washing up, his face burning in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure _why_ he was embarrassed, since Erik had been eavesdropping on his private time without Charles’ knowledge and Charles was completely innocent of doing _anything_ indecent because he _waited_ to make sure that Erik wasn’t there before… Bollocks, Charles was panicking. Before Charles could even _think_ about calming himself down, he heard a tiny moan come from the other side of the wall.

 _Oh my God._ Charles thought, face on fire while his brain ground to a halt. Was Erik _masturbating_? Maybe he had hurt himself in the loud crash? Nope, the gasping breath that followed Charles’ thought cut _that_ progression right off. Erik was _definitely_ wanking off. But, maybe it wasn’t from Charles. It might just be a coincidence. Blokes wanked off in the shower, because it was easier to clean up. That was _totally_ normal. And not weird in the slightest. Charles escaped his bathroom and breathed, trying to force Erik’s mind from his brain completely. He didn’t manage to succeed, and the echoes of pure ecstasy rippled down the back of Charles’ mind while Erik was pleasuring himself. Charles put on some headphones and blasted The Beatles into his eardrums while he vainly hoped that it would drown out the feelings leaking into his mind from his neighbour.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for the lift alone when a tall, excruciatingly hot bloke walked in to the lobby. He was preoccupied with the conversation on his phone, and barely gave Charles a nod as he passed by, trotting up the stairs quickly as he spoke quietly into his phone. If Charles had been unsure when the man spoke as he passed, the mind that accompanied the man was unmistakable. _That_ was Erik. Tall, taller than Charles was (if Charles _could_ stand), with short, dark hair and sharp blue-grey eyes. Charles shut his eyes and focused on the rapid-fire thoughts that flew through Erik’s mind and sighed, like some lovesick lady in a drama.

“Charlie? Do you need help getting up to your flat?” And _there_ was Mrs. McNamara, startling Charles out of his reverie. God, he was _screwed_ if he was falling in love with his neighbour, who not only was absurdly smart, but also hot as hell…

“I’m fine, Mrs. McNamara.” Charles wheeled himself into the lift and steeled himself for the awkward conversation she was going to subject him to.

“Have you met dear Erik, yet?” She asked, as the doors shut.

“No, not yet.” Charles told her, patiently. “We’re both just on different schedules, I think.”

“Well, go introduce yourself!” Mrs. McNamara said. “I just saw him walk in.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Charles muttered, flushing. “And I’ve got some work to do…”

“It won’t take but a mo.” Mrs. McNamara waved his concerns away as the lift doors opened on his floor. Right as they left the lift, the door to Erik’s flat shut.

“He looks busy.” Charles pointed out. “I’ll just do it later.”

“I’ve been waiting for you two for weeks.” Mrs. McNamara frowned at him, showing her displeasure for all the world to see. “Now, you go talk to that nice boy, or I’ll _make_ you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Charles nodded. Mrs. McNamara shooed him towards Erik’s door and walked back to the lift.

“Hurry up.” She told him, right before the lift doors shut, taking her up to her floor. Charles quickly wheeled himself over to his flat and fumbled with his keys for a moment. He heard the door further down the hall reopen and deliberately did _not_ look back. He could _not_ engage a man _that_ attractive without making a fool of himself.

 _Is that Charles?_ Erik’s mind was loud in Charles’ mind as he _finally_ got his front door open. Charles got into his flat and pushed the door shut behind him with a careless shove. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was avoiding anymore, since the man was his _neighbour_. Bloody hell, they had practically wanked off together. There wasn’t much that they _hadn’t_ talked about. Charles needed to get over himself.

After a good ten minutes of his verbal self-flagellation, Charles steeled himself and went to go take a shower. The shower on the other side of the wall was already running, which almost ( _almost_ ) made Charles turn around. But no. There was _nothing_ to be afraid of. Maybe Erik was as attracted to Charles as Charles was to Erik. But _that_ wasn’t very likely. Regardless of how much people liked his personality, the whole wheelchair bit tended to throw potential suitors _away_ from Charles. Plus, Erik would have to be _attracted_ to Charles in the first place. Which just wasn’t likely.

“Charles?” Erik’s pleasant voice called out hesitantly from the other side of the wall as Charles started up his shower.

“Hullo.” Charles couldn’t help the stupid smile that flitted over his features at Erik’s voice. Bloody hell, he was a goner.

“I must have missed you last night.” Erik continued, after confirming Charles’ presence. Charles flushed with embarrassment and hummed an agreement, not trusting his voice. “Have you given any thought to your next move? Or have you conceded defeat?”

“I shall _never_ concede defeat in chess, my friend.” Charles replied, grinning to himself. “I have never been beaten.” It was true. But knowing what plays his opponent was _going_ to make helped give Charles a leg up. He had the most difficultly beating people who played unpredictably, even to themselves, but even then, he had a firm enough grasp on the more technical aspects of chess that he had never lost a game of chess. Even when their father started teaching him and Raven how to play the game, he never lost.

“Perhaps you’ve met your match.” Erik suggested, chuckling. It was true that playing a long, drawn-out game over the course of three weeks and played _entirely_ in their minds would put them on a more even playing field, but Erik had thought his strategy too loudly back when they first started playing. Charles knew what his end-game was, and could easily maneuver his way around it. So, Charles did. They each made a handful of moves, intermingled with a discussion about their jobs (Charles’ was awful, with a terrible boss while Erik’s was lovely, but stressful).

“Have a lovely evening, Erik.” Charles finally informed the man, when he couldn’t stall leaving his shower any longer. The water was turning cold and he didn’t fancy sitting under cold water just to continue a conversation with the man he fancied.

“You, too, Charles.” Charles shut off his water, listening to Erik do the same, and went about his business, blatantly ignoring whatever noise Erik was making on the other side of the wall in favor of focusing on drying himself off and _not_ accidentally killing himself by falling out of the tub. If he perhaps ended the evening by wanking off to the memories of Erik talking _chess_ to him, there was no one present who could corroborate such a tale (nor could they judge him).

Three days later, Charles’ entire world collapsed in one fell swoop:

His sister came back.

“Charles!” Raven hugged him tightly as soon as he got the door open.

“Raven!” Charles smiled happily. “When did you get back? Where did you _go_? Tell me everything! Have you eaten? Let’s get dinner!”

“I missed you.” Raven giggled at Charles’ exuberance. “You can just read it all from my mind, you dork.”

“But that entirely defeats the purpose of hearing you _say_ it.” Charles replied. The conversation was well-worn. Charles preferred hearing the words directly from people’s lips, rather than just taking them from their minds. There was a subtle nuance that come from the verbal articulation of words that didn’t happen mentally. Charles lived for those moments when the mental emphasis didn’t match up with the verbal one. It was a little release from his world of omniscience. The people he _couldn’t_ predict were the most intriguing (and often the most frustratingly annoying) people he dealt with.

“All right.” Raven settled herself familiarly behind Charles’ wheelchair and started walking them towards the lift. “Take me out to dinner, big brother. And I’ll introduce you to Hank.”

“Who’s Hank?” Charles asked, even as Raven’s mind loudly supplied him with the answers.

“He’s someone else like us.” Raven replied.

“ _Really_?” Charles asked, excitedly. He knew Raven had gone out looking for more mutants, but he hadn’t thought she’d _find_ them! “What can he do?”

“Relax.” Raven laughed as the lift opened up. “All will be revealed in good time.”

“Where would you like to go?” Charles asked. “Anywhere you like. I’m buying.”

“Fish and chips.” Raven said, decidedly. “I’ve _craved_ some good fish and chips.”

“Fish and chips it is.” Charles grinned. When the lift doors opened to the lobby, Raven didn’t even hesitate as they nearly ran smack into Erik, who was just coming home. Erik blinked at them and muttered a quick apology. Raven waved him off and kept moving, talking enthusiastically to Charles, who was lost to shock and embarrassment. What if Erik thought they were _dating_ and was going to give up on Charles completely? Which was utter nonsense, since Erik didn’t hold a torch for Charles _anyway_. God, Charles needed to stop living in his own silly fantasy.

“You all right?” Raven asked. “You seem out of it, Charles.”

“I’m fine.” Charles lied.

“You’re lying.” Raven stopped their progress down the street and eyed him carefully. “What happened?” Her eyes unfocused as she thought about what had changed in Charles’ demeanour and what had precipitated that change. When her mind passed over running into Erik, Charles heard it and flushed. Raven’s mind stopped on the idea of the stranger she had never met before making her brother blush.

“It’s nothing, Raven.” Charles repeated, hoping that she’d listen to him (for once).

“Who’s the bloke?” She asked, ignoring him completely. “Is he a boyfriend? No, he would have introduced himself. Who is he, Charles?”

“No one.” Charles denied.

 _Charles. Don’t lie to me._ Raven thought, deliberately.

 _He’s my neighbour._ Charles replied. _That’s it._

“Oh.” Raven nodded, smiling slyly. “So, you _want_ him to be more.”

“Raven!” Charles had forgotten how _annoying_ his sister could be when she wanted to. He flushed, his ears turning red along with the rest of his face.

“Tell me about him.” Raven ordered. “I’ll tell you all about my journey and _you_ can tell me all about this mysterious neighbour of yours.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Charles muttered.

“Then why are you blushing?” Raven asked.

Charles was then forced to sit across from his sister as she grilled him about one Mr. Erik Lensherr while she blatantly ignored _all_ his attempts to change the subject to _her_ travels. Charles was _sure_ he had never regretted their relationship more than he had in that moment, and that included when Raven got him in trouble with their mum, right before the accident that left him in his wheelchair. Raven was obnoxiously precocious and always had been. And she was like a dog with a bone when it came to Charles’ life. Or lack thereof. He had never been particularly exciting aside from his powers.

“Tell me about Hank.” Charles tried, again, to distract his sister from her infernal prying.

“I will when you actually _answer_ my questions instead of avoiding them.” She replied.

So, Charles told her _all_ about Erik Lensherr, including the somewhat-mutual wank session they had engaged in the other evening (they were _very_ close growing up). Raven gaped at Charles as his story progressed, forgetting all about the fish and chips in front of her in favor of staring, open-mouthed, at her brother.

“Charles…” She blinked at him slowly when he finished. _You **idiot**._

“What?” Charles was _not_ expecting that reaction (which was odd because normally he could read his sister like a book).

“He _fancies_ you!” Raven sighed, exasperatedly.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“He talks to you _every bloody night_ , Charles!”

“He’s friendly.”

“He _wanked off_ to you!”

“You have no evidence to support that.”

“Charles!”

“What?”

Raven glowered at him, her mind loudly suppling him with all the reasons she thought he was being thick and all the reasons why she thought Erik, whom she had never met before and therefore had _no_ basis for what kind of person he was, _completely_ fancied Charles. Charles stubbornly ignored all of her reasons (some of which were perfectly logical and reasonable, but Charles was deliberately ignoring that fact). He quickly changed the subject, making Raven frown at him, to Hank, this mysterious mutant who she had met in her travels. The rest of the evening passed by with Raven telling him story after story of the things she had seen and done across the globe. Erik wasn’t mentioned for the rest of dinner.

In fact, Erik didn’t even cross Charles’ mind until he got back to his flat for the evening. Raven had abandoned him to go make sure her friend Hank was all right and settling in to her flat. The shower from Erik’s side was already running and normally, Charles would just hop in and apologize for running late. However, Erik’s mind was completely focused on pleasure to the point where there was no doubt what he was doing. And then he moaned.

And fucking shite if it wasn’t the hottest fucking sound Charles had ever heard in his life.

Including Erik’s laugh. And chuckle. And his voice.

Charles was hard and desperate and he barely was able to convince himself _not_ to touch himself when a name flashed unbidden through Erik’s mind. It was so focused and so intense that there was _no way_ Charles could have missed it.

 _Charles…_ Erik was panting and groaning and _did he just say that?!_

Charles couldn’t have stopped his hand freeing his erection and fisting it if his life depended on it. _Nothing_ was more arousing than knowing that _you_ were the source of someone’s masturbatory pleasure. Charles bit back his groan as soon as his hand touched his hot flesh, hoping against hope to hear that delicious sound again.

“Ah, fuck…” Erik moaned again. Charles almost whimpered. It was too much. Erik’s voice was going to make him cum faster and harder than he ever had in his life. And now he knew what Erik looked like. He could just imagine the man, tall and strong, completely naked and wet in the shower, his long, thick member trapped in his trembling fist as he struggled to hold himself upright through his mounting lust and pleasure…

“Erik!” Charles hit his orgasm hard and fast and he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his throat.

“Ah!” Erik’s voice was confused, but he abruptly cried out, probably reaching his own orgasm. Charles sat, completely still, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He could barely hear his own thoughts, much less the ones of his hot neighbour. “Charles?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Panda, who succinctly requested an update.
> 
> I am so sorry for taking so long on this! My computer died, I had to plan and host a birthday party for my son, and then said son had to be hospitalized. Luckily, my husband is an IT guy, so he managed to save my data (and this), so I didn't have to start from scratch on this chapter. I promise that this was the soonest I could update! I am planning on having the rest of the story written and updated by the beginning of next month (assuming no more computer malfunctions or hospital stays or birthday parties). But this right here is why I usually wait until the fic is completed before posting any of it.
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Charles was never going to be able to show his face again. He tried to find his voice, to answer, to _apologize_ , but he couldn’t even move. Eventually, the silence became unbearable, and Charles escaped back to his bedroom. He almost burst into tears as he caught sight of his shirt, now artfully draped in semen. Muttering to himself about how stupid he was and how could he _ever_ think Erik had been thinking about _him_ , there was probably some bloke named Charles at his work (though Charles couldn’t recall Erik ever mentioning someone by that name), Charles stripped his shirt off, zipped his trousers up, and considered his options.

If Erik heard his shower going, he might try to have a conversation with him. Charles couldn’t handle a conversation with Erik. Not now. Maybe not ever. It was too much to hope that their interaction just now would never be mentioned again. Erik was too confrontational. He didn’t care how uncomfortable things got, he just wanted answers. Charles wouldn’t be able to shower tonight. Or, if he did, he’d have to do it after Erik went to sleep. Oh, fuck, Charles would have to change his whole shower schedule around now. It was his only option to avoid Erik. And avoiding Erik was what he was going to have do if he wanted to _never_ think of what just happened again.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The knock on Charles’ front door made his heart and mind stop. Part of him thought about pretending not to be home, but the more proper side of him insisted on answering the door. He cursed his mother and her proper English manners as he rolled himself to his front door. He promptly cursed his inability to walk when he couldn’t look through the peephole to confirm his suspicions. He had never needed to look through it before (from lack of company, honestly), but he was regretting not having a lower one put in when he had the chance.

“Hullo?” Confirming his worst fears, Erik stood at his door, wearing a pair of loose-fitting joggers with a comfortable-looking t-shirt that showed off his collar bones in a way that was _not_ doing any favors to Charles’ sanity. He was still slightly damp, like he had _just_ toweled off. Charles wanted to sink into the floor and die.

Erik opened his mouth and froze, just staring at Charles. Charles frowned, confused as to why the man was just _staring_ at him and looked stunned and… Charles abruptly realized that he had never put a new shirt on after taking his other one off. He flushed and tried to think of what the best reaction would be.

“Uh… sorry.” He muttered. “Wasn’t expecting company. Let me… er…” Charles left his door open and rolled back to his bedroom, snagging a sweater and throwing it on before going back to his living room. Erik had stepped inside the front door but didn’t move any farther into the room. It took Charles a second to realize he was just being polite, rather than being confused at the lack of sitting furniture in the flat. Oh, Charles had a _really_ comfortable armchair, but since he never had company, he didn’t feel the need for a couch. If he was going to go through the effort of hauling himself out of his wheelchair, he was just going to flop onto his bed.

“How could you _not_ be expecting company after…” Erik shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Charles steadfastly shoved Erik’s consciousness from his mind.

“Look, it was an accident. It’ll never happen again, I swear. I’m so sorry, Erik. I’ve already come up with a new shower schedule to avoid this and it won’t be a problem and…” Charles trailed off from his ramble when he heard Erik chuckle.

“Nervous?” Erik tilted his head with a smirk. Charles both hated and _adored_ that look.

“Would you like some tea?” Charles almost, _almost_ , slapped himself for saying something so asinine. But it was the only thing he could think to say. Erik laughed.

“How very English of you.”

“I’m trying to salvage my dignity.” Charles pouted, just a bit. Erik’s eyes caught the gesture and his grin widened for a second.

“Look, I’m not trying to upset you or make you nervous.” Erik was suddenly very serious.

“Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” Charles muttered, under his breath.

“I just wanted to let you know that I fancy you and would like to invite you out on a date.”

Charles’ brain executed a full-stop.

“You’re brilliant and funny and gorgeous. I do hope you decide to _not_ alter your shower schedule any, for I would miss our sing-alongs and I might never know the end of our chess match, which would be terrible.”

Charles couldn’t figure out how to speak. He was _sure_ he learned at some point that language was a thing and that speech was _also_ a thing and _what had Erik said?_

“Just think about it and let me know.” Erik was flushed, just a bit. “You know where I live.” He turned towards the open door.

_Don’t go._

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.” Erik looked back at Charles. “But I figured it would be best for you to have some time alone to figure out what you would like.”

It took Charles a second to realize he had projected that thought, not that Erik had heard him. It took Erik even longer to realize that he hadn’t physically heard Charles speak. He froze and looked back at Charles, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Er…” Charles fished for something, _anything_ , to say.

 _Did he just…?_ Erik’s thought was loud in his mind. Charles blinked hard, trying to disengage from the beautiful mind before him.

“Charles, what just happened?” Erik asked. _How did I hear him in my mind? Does he have powers, too?_

 _Too?_ Charles gaped at Erik. “You have powers?”

“You have telepathy!” Erik pointed at Charles, stunned.

“What? Er… yes?” Charles was _not_ keeping up with what was happening.

“I’ve been looking for someone else with powers for _years_!” A bright grin burst forth on Erik’s face. He took a few steps closer to Charles. “How long have you been able to do that? What’s your range? Can you control it? Well, obviously, since you haven’t been projecting your thoughts to me this whole time. Do you know anyone else like us?”

“Us?” Charles got stuck on the word. “You’ve got powers, too?”

“I can control metal.” Erik replied, flushing a little. He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “And magnetic fields and stuff. It’s nothing like what _you_ can do.”

“Erik, I could _kill_ to _not_ hear every thought and emotion of everyone on the block.” Charles interrupted. “So you can move metal with your mind?”

“Yeah.” Erik nodded, flushing at Charles’ words.

“Can you show me?” Charles asked, excitedly. He had forgotten his previous embarrassment entirely. Erik nodded and glanced at the front door, still wide open. He flicked his fingers and the door swung shut. Charles jumped. Erik turned back to Charles, biting his lower lip and considering his options.

Then, his gaze focused on Charles, specifically, the wheelchair he was sitting on. He reached one hand out and Charles’ wheelchair rolled forward deliberately and carefully. Charles grinned, looking around at his wheelchair before glancing up at Erik’s face. He didn’t look at all strained from the effort of moving Charles’ wheelchair half a dozen feet towards him.

“That’s amazing!” Charles gushed. “What does it _feel_ like to manipulate magnetic fields like that? Is it a totally mental thing and you just use your hand as guidance or do you actually need to direct your energy through your hand to whatever you want to manipulate? How much effort does it take? Could you lift a building, say, if you wanted to?” Charles stumbled to a stop at the fondly amused smirk on his neighbour’s face. “I’m _not_ adorable!”

“Reading my mind again, Charles?” Erik chuckled. Shite, that chuckle went _straight_ to Charles’ groin.

“No.” Charles was _not_ pouting, no matter what anyone else said or implied. “You just have this look on your face that says you think I’m cute.”

“Speaking purely from an unbiased perspective, since I’ve only known what you look like for the past fifteen minutes,” Erik replied, calmly, “I think you’re adorable.”

“I’m unbiased.” Charles muttered.

“You’ve always known what you look like. You see yourself in the mirror every day. You’re biased.” Erik pointed out. Charles bit his tongue to keep from saying some childish response (“not”) and looked to the side, valiantly fighting off a pout.

 _Can you turn off when you read minds?_ Erik asked.

“Sort of.” Charles replied, making Erik grin. “I can turn off my power, for lack of a better phrase, but it takes all my focus and energy to do so. My natural state, once again for lack of a better phrase, is one where I can hear the thoughts and feelings around me. To force myself into silence takes more energy than dealing with the headaches that follow.”

“Headaches?” Erik asked, blankly.

“Having more than one voice in your head it’s always pleasant.” Charles answered. “Don’t worry. A little meditation and I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Erik argued. Charles gave Erik a knowing look.

“Try to lie to a telepath.” He said, dryly. “I dare you.”

“So, have you been listening to my mind this whole time?” Erik asked, smirking.

“No!” Charles was horrified at even the thought. “I would _never_ invade someone’s privacy like that! I try to _avoid_ listening to people’s thoughts. It’s just rude. My sister, Raven–”

“Is she the one you were with earlier today?” Erik asked.

“You noticed?”

“Of course, I did.” Erik chuckled. “I’ve been trying to find the courage to ask you out for weeks now. When I saw you with… Raven, was it? I thought I lost my chance. Until tonight.”

And all of the embarrassment that Charles had forgotten about came back with a bloody vengeance. He flushed and Erik smirked again. Charles silently cursed the ability that Erik had to be arousing no matter _what_ he did. Erik leaned down, putting his hands on the armrests of Charles’ wheelchair and looming over Charles.

“You masturbated to me, didn’t you?”

Charles almost yelped at the abruptness of the question. He flushed even darker, if it was possible, and bit his lip to hold back the whimper that emerged at the authority in Erik’s voice. He might possibly have just learned about a new kink. Perhaps it was just Erik and his voice. His damnably sexy voice.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Erik licked his lips and Charles could have cried. He was hard _again_. “Just answer me one question: are you single?”

Charles shook his head.

_Not since I met you._

Erik tilted his head.

“Are you subtly telling me that I stole your heart?”

Charles flushed.

“Oh, darling, if only you knew how fucking adorable you are.”

“I’m not–!”

Charles was cut off from his protest when Erik stole his lips. Immediately, Charles moaned in response to the kiss and Erik broke away.

“You need to _not_ make that noise if you expect me to leave.” Erik’s voice was rough and deeper than it had been not two seconds prior. _I am going to die if I don’t get to kiss him again._

_Don’t die._

A slow smile drew over Erik’s features and he kissed Charles again, softer this time, trying to hold back his passion. _Do you often listen in on my thoughts?_

“No!” Charles broke away. “I told you! It’s rude and disrespectful and…” Erik kissed him to hush him.

“It’s fine, Charles. In fact, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself around me.” His voice was gentle and soothing and it was entirely unfair how calm and rational he was when Charles was _dying_ here! “You can feel free to read my thoughts whenever you please.”

“But–”

Charles was going to continually interrupt Erik if it meant he would get kissed to stop.

“My _active_ thoughts, Charles. My past is still mine, but whatever I’m thinking at the moment is free for you.”

Charles didn’t even get a word out before Erik was kissing him.

“I didn’t say anything.” Charles murmured, when Erik pulled back a mere inch.

“I know,” He smiled against Charles’ lips, “I just wanted to kiss you again.”

“You know kissing me–” _Doesn’t stop my mind, right?_

“Looks like I have to try harder then.” Erik’s grin make Charles go weak at the knees, which he would probably feel better if he could stand. “But before we go any farther…”

Charles groaned and tugged Erik into another kiss. Fuck, he could get addicted to Erik’s lips.

 _Hey, I’m serious!_ Erik told Charles mentally.

 _So am I. Besides, you don’t have to talk for me to hear you._ Charles replied.

_Talk to you without ever having to stop kissing you? Well, this is a definite perk._

Charles pulled away and blushed (again?!).

“Look, I professed my love for you and your brilliant brain and I get that you like kissing me, but I just wanted to make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Erik was a little breathless, which made Charles feel better. At least he wasn’t the _only_ one affected by this… What the hell were they doing in the first place?

“Misunderstandings?” Charles tried to focus. He _really_ did. But Erik’s collarbones were just too distracting.

“We only just met physically five minutes ago.” Erik pointed out. “I didn’t even know you were in a wheelchair until recently.”

Charles instantly focused, his heart dropping and his happiness disappearing with one word. He leaned back a bit, trying to get a bit of space between him and Erik so he could stop breathing that earthy musk that _must_ have had something to do with Erik’s soap because it was fucking _intoxicating_. Erik also leaned back, breathing hard.

“I just want to be on the same page regarding… this.” Erik gestured between their bodies.

“What _is_ this?” Charles asked.

“Well, I asked you to be my boyfriend, but you kind of left me hanging, so we’re a bit stuck, as it were.”

“Of course I want to be your boyfriend!” Charles was dumbfounded that anyone would _not_ want to be Erik’s boyfriend.

“While that makes me feel better about kissing you, there’s still some more to discuss.” Erik couldn’t seem to settle down, refusing to back off or relax.

“Like?”

“How fast do you want this to move? I want to move at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Er…” He couldn’t say the words out loud. He didn’t have enough courage. _Can we have sex now?_

Erik laughed, the sound delighting Charles.

“That answers my next question, which I was afraid to ask because I wasn’t sure I could ask without offending you.”

“Can I have sex?” Charles gestured to his legs.

“Well, _traditional_ sex.” Erik corrected. “There are a myriad of ways to have sex that would have no impact on whether or not you’re in a wheelchair.”

“To answer your question,” Charles ignored Erik, “I have full sensation everywhere, but I can only move above my waist.”

“So, you can feel this?” Erik dropped one hand to Charles’ thigh. Charles couldn’t think of anything but that hand for a few seconds. Long enough that he forgot Erik’s question.

 _Yes._ He silently asked for more, though he wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate answer to whatever it had been that Erik had asked.

 _Good._ Erik’s smile was addicting. _Everything_ Erik was addicting. Charles would do _so_ many things to ensure he got to experience Erik in every way so he got to feed that addiction.

_Can we have sex **now**?_

_As you wish._ Erik kissed Charles, the mental images of what he wanted to do to Charles flooding the forefront of his mind. Charles couldn’t help but experience them as they went by, whimpering at one particular image of Erik holding Charles up, his back against a wall, Erik thrusting desperately as Charles clung to him, panting and begging for more…

Charles barely had time to get attached to that image before Erik had slid his arms around Charles’ shoulders and bum, hoisting him out of his chair. Charles yelped and wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders instinctively.

“Glad you like that one, too.” Erik grinned, though he was breathing hard, which made Charles feel better about losing his cool.

“I didn’t know you could hold me up…” Charles blinked down at the floor, much farther away than it was when he was in his chair.

“Don’t worry about me.” Erik laughed. “I’m strong enough to carry you right now. I’ll work out a little more so I can be strong enough to fuck you while standing, too.”

_Erik…!_

_What?_ Erik walked them into Charles’ bedroom, where he helped Charles settle on the bed. _I’m completely serious._

“That doesn’t mean you _say_ it!”

“My darling Charles, I am going to _have_ to say it if you’re going to have that charming blush every time.”

“I wasn’t blushing!”

Erik merely smiled and touched Charles’ cheek, blatantly pointing out the lie.

“Shut up and kiss me, you infuriating–”

Erik kissed him and Charles couldn’t find fault with that particular method of shutting him up.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Erik all of point-seven seconds to get both of them stark naked. Charles couldn’t figure out how to function beyond groaning and twisting under Erik’s touch. Not that Erik was deliberately teasing him. In fact, the man was pretty blasé about taking their clothes off, which shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was.

“Charles…” Erik dropped his head onto the mattress next to Charles’ thigh, groaning loudly. _Fuck…_

“What’s wrong?” Charles found his voice with his concern.

“Absolutely _nothing_.” Erik surged up and kissed him hard and desperate and it was _everything_ Charles could have wished for. He whimpered into the kiss and Erik groaned again.

_You are going to end this a **lot** sooner than I’d like just with those noises, darling._

Charles flushed a bit, but with pride more so than embarrassment. He was pushing Erik’s buttons just as Erik had been pushing his, and it was intensely arousing to know Erik was lusting after him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Charles asked against Erik’s lips. Erik pulled back barely enough to breathe.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

“That makes this easier then.”

 _I assume you prefer being on top._ Charles couldn’t speak because Erik was kissing him again. He had no complaints on that regard. He’d rather be kissing Erik than anything else anyway.

 _Traditionally, I’ve been on top._ Erik allowed. _Though I’m sure you could convince me to do most anything._ Charles, if possible, got harder at the thought. He gasped for air, tilting his head back in the attempt to clear his head. Erik was rather dominant even without introducing sex into the mix, and he was willing to…

Charles gasped as Erik’s tongue touched the sensitive nerve on the side of his neck. He lost his train of thought, focusing entirely on whatever it was Erik was doing. He could feel Erik’s lips twist into a grin as he kissed his way down Charles’ neck. He kept moving down, past Charles’ nipples with a brief pause to test their sensitivity, past the ticklish stretch of Charles’ abdomen, until his lips were teasing Charles’ inner thighs. Charles couldn’t twitch his legs away from the ticklish, yet arousing sensation, but his upper body jerked in reaction.

“I hope you know, I’ve been dying to do this since I first heard you singing along to Queen in the shower.” Erik informed Charles.

“Wha…?” Charles couldn’t properly get the word out. Not with Erik so close and _not touching him!_ Erik chuckled and sucked Charles’ erection down. Charles moaned loudly and his arms collapsed under him, leaving him limp on the bed. He couldn’t thrust into the wet, warm expanse of Erik’s mouth, but he could feel it. Fuck, could he feel it. His fingers gripped Erik’s shoulders tightly as he struggled to keep himself in check.

 _You’re so beautiful._ Erik’s thought made Charles’ breath stop in his chest. He looked down and met the blue-grey eyes of his neighbour. He didn’t know _how_ he could get embarrassed, especially when he was laid out across his bed like a… _Don’t you **dare** finish that thought. You’re gorgeous._

“Kiss me.” Charles demanded, in lieu of admitting he had no idea he was projecting his thoughts.

“With pleasure.” Erik held himself over Charles’ body, scant inches away, and kissed Charles thoroughly. Charles almost whimpered at the lack of contact. He wanted Erik’s glorious body _everywhere_. Erik’s tongue swept past Charles’ lips and it was so innocent compared to what Erik had just been doing that Charles almost came. There wasn’t a reason for it, but it almost happened nonetheless. Irritated with his absence of control, Charles reached up and started touching the hard muscles above him. Erik choked at the contact.

_Charles…_

“You told me to figure out what I wanted.” Charles reminded him breathlessly.

“And you’ve come to a decision, have you?” Erik should _not_ have sounded as destroyed as he did. Charles had barely touched Erik’s chest and the man was trembling and gasping for air. Charles leaned up on one elbow to kiss Erik while his spare hand reached down to grip his rather impressive erection firmly. Erik whimpered and broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Charles…” His voice was tight and utterly wrecked.

“Hurry up.” Charles ordered, stroking deliberately. Erik somehow found the presence of mind to move. He shifted off Charles and sat up, struggling to breathe.

“We need…” He was a little frantic, and not entirely focused as he looked around. Charles grinned with pride. _He_ had done that. _He_ had somehow gotten the man bothered enough that he could barely think straight. And Erik _was_ barely thinking straight.

“Top drawer.” Charles rolled on his side to indicate his bedside table. Erik had deposited him in the literal _middle_ of his bed, so he couldn’t precisely reach the drawer himself. Erik didn’t manage to stand on his shaky legs, but slid down the bed to go digging through the drawer. His entire form froze once he had it open. “Erik?”

 _Oh, fuck me._ Erik’s thought was quiet. Charles got a brief mental image and turned bright red. He had forgotten what was on top of the drawer. He had used it most recently, so it hadn’t gotten buried under the other contents of the drawer. Erik pulled out the large, sparkly purple dildo and turned to look at Charles, his eyebrow quirked in a question. Charles covered his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond reason.

“I’m not going to ask.” Erik said. “But holy fuck, I didn’t think I could get more aroused right now and you’ve gone and shot _that_ in the foot.”

“I didn’t buy it!” Charles defended.

“Doesn’t matter. If you’re not opposed, I’d like to explore the rest of this drawer with you later.” Erik’s grin could have stopped traffic. Charles hesitated, recalling all the things he kept in the drawer. “And what’s in that box under your bed.” He jerked upright.

“What?!” His voice sounded strangled.

“I can manipulate magnetic fields, darling.” Erik dug through the drawer to extricate condoms and lube before turning back to Charles. “I can feel those handcuffs you’re hiding. Not to mention the–” Charles clapped a hand over Erik’s mouth, too embarrassed to hear him say it out loud.

“Erik!”

 _I would be very much interested in exploring **everything** with you._ Erik was grinning against Charles’ hand, his previous urgency forgotten in the need to tease. _But later. I just want you right now._

His thoughts didn’t help with Charles’ embarrassment.

Erik didn’t waste any more time, crawling over Charles to get between his thighs. Charles’ body ached with the lack of touch. His whole body was humming, waiting for Erik to _do_ something. Erik placed a calming hand on Charles’ belly.

_Relax, darling._

_I **would** if you would just **touch** me._ Charles’ thought back, irritably. He had been waiting _too_ long for this to have Erik just take his time with everything. Erik chuckled, but did as he was bid, his fingers probing at Charles’ hole. Charles bit back the whimper and fisted the sheets. Erik ran one hand soothingly along Charles’ thighs and abdomen while his other fingers, slick with lube, reached deeper and deeper until Charles was barely breathing. It didn’t hurt, Erik was moving too slow for that, but the pleasure was still a hair away. Erik crooked his fingers and Charles’ breath exploded out of his chest in a groan.

 _Please, Erik…_ He couldn’t form actual words. Not anymore. Erik leaned forward, his fingers thrusting in and out, and kissed Charles.

 _Fuck, you’re perfection._ He thought. Charles whimpered, his hands grabbing at Erik’s biceps, since he couldn’t buck off the bed at the sensations. Those wonderful, exciting sensations. Erik pulled back and Charles made a whinging sound in the back of his throat. Erik twisted two more fingers into Charles. Charles bit his lip, trying to keep himself together. It would just ruin everything if he came too soon. Erik somehow had the faculties to, one-handed, roll on a condom and slick himself up.

In lieu of words, since words eluded him, Charles gave Erik all the sensations, all the pleasure, all the _need_ that he was feeling. Erik’s eyes met his, dark and dilated, as he gasped for air.

“Charles…?” His voice was rough, choked off, and desperate. He didn’t wait for a response. He slid forward, brushing the full length of his body against Charles’. Charles could feel the tension and urgency in Erik’s body and his mind. It was intoxicating. Erik somehow managed to get their bodies slotted together appropriately and thrust into Charles without fanfare. Charles clutched at Erik, throwing his head back as he breathed through being filled.

They both paused for a moment, adjusting to the sensations. Charles could feel both his pleasure and Erik’s pleasure. It was nearly overwhelming. Charles shared everything he felt with Erik, letting the man understand what sex with a telepath was like. Erik breathed heavily into Charles’ shoulder, trying to sort through all the input he was being given.

And, as suddenly as they had paused, they both started moving. Erik leaned back and gripped Charles’ thighs tightly as his hips snapped forward again and again. Charles pushed up onto his elbows to kiss Erik, urgently and messily. Erik groaned against Charles’ lips, feeling both sides of the kiss with vivid detail. Charles fell back on the bed, unable to hold himself up with the pleasure he was getting from both sides. Neither of them spoke, or even thought true words, as Erik thrust faster and harder. Slight adjustments on both parts were made without even acknowledging them. Erik needed a little more friction, so Charles tightened. Charles needed a different angle, so Erik shifted. It was instant and Charles was certain Erik didn’t even realize that he was reacting to the feedback.

Their orgasms were fast approaching, but weren’t the focus of attention. Everything just felt _so good_ that it wouldn’t do to stop. Charles reached down and fisted his own erection, almost whimpering at the sensitivity. Erik gasped out a muffled curse, as he too felt it. They were so focused on _feeling_ that everything else was lost.

Charles finished first, crying out at the abruptness of his orgasm. Erik didn’t last through feeling Charles’ orgasm, gasping for air as his hips stuttered and twitched. Charles moaned at the sensation of Erik’s orgasm, shuddering in aftershocks. They didn’t move, both trembling and quivering as they struggled to breathe past the release of pleasure.

“Holy fuck.” Erik was the first one to manage language.

“Holy _fuck_.” Charles agreed.

“Is that what sex is like for you every time?” Erik asked. Charles managed a tired nod.

“I haven’t shared before.” He added.

“That was amazing.” Erik leaned forward and kissed Charles slowly and languidly. “Absolute perfection.”

“I’m not perfect.” Charles argued, softly.

“You are.” Erik corrected, holding himself over Charles with a smug smile as he took in every inch of Charles’ features. Charles never felt so beautiful or loved. Erik’s smile turned into a grin. Charles belatedly realized he was still sharing with Erik. He blushed. Erik kissed him again.

“We should clean up.” Charles groaned, not wanting to move.

“Give me a moment.” Erik sighed. “I’m not sure my legs would be any more effective than yours at the moment.” Charles laughed.

 _Stay the night?_ He asked, softly.

_Oh, I’m not done with you, yet, darling._

Charles felt joy down to his bones as Erik kissed him yet again. He’d never get tired of it.

* * *

The next morning, fortunately a weekend, Erik realized how little Charles kept in his apartment and shook his head, fondly. Both fully clothed, they exited Charles’ apartment (which they had spent the majority of the night christening) with the express intention of walking the few meters to Erik’s apartment to eat. Erik had designs of also christening his own apartment, which he tried and failed to keep hidden from Charles. Not that Charles minded. Erik paused in pushing Charles’ chair as they both noticed the plastic bag on the door handle. There was a plastic container with cookies inside and a small slip of paper that merely read _“Congratulations!”_ Charles blushed fervidly even though no one was around. Apparently, _he_ was the loud neighbour now.

He suddenly had a whole new appreciation for his previous neighbour.


End file.
